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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332258">Dorothy's Stopover</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ORiley42/pseuds/ORiley42'>ORiley42</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mission: Impossible (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Notting Hill Fusion, Disability, F/F, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Sexuality, thar be gays who love and support each other, which essentially amounts to...</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:26:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,216</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ORiley42/pseuds/ORiley42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan Hunt is one of the most famous actors in the world. One day, this very same Ethan Hunt walks into Benji's modest little travel bookshop. You'll never guess what happens next! *rom-com theme music begins to play*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt, Jane Carter/Ilsa Faust</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dorothy's Stopover</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Three_Oaks/gifts">Three_Oaks</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a holiday gift for Oaksy!! I hope you’re having a lovely time and wish you a happy almost-new-year. &lt;3</p>
<p>This fic is a true ORiley standard! We’ve got babbling Benji, fluff and romance, appearances from Maggie, sapphic background activity, and a happy ending. Plus, me side-eyeing the original film’s take on heteronormativity, consent, and disability by pointedly re-writing several plot elements. <br/>Hope y’all enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Bit of a dying business, isn’t it?” the blond sneered, more a statement than a question.</p>
<p>Benji tried to gently redirect, “Well, I like to think that—”</p>
<p>“I mean,” the man continued without slowing down, “really, what’s the point of a travel bookstore, these days? The internet’s got that covered, and for free.”</p>
<p>“Yes, it may seem like that, but—”</p>
<p>“That site! What’s it called? Yelp? Or is it the one with the owl? It does all the travel things for you. Push of a button, incredible!”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Benji agreed, “astonishing what they can do with electricity these days. What’ll they replace next, candles and carriages?”</p>
<p>The speechifying customer—or rather, not-customer, since he hadn’t yet paid a penny despite consuming great quantities of oxygen and time in Benji’s shop—didn’t seem to spot the sarcasm as it flew over his head.</p>
<p>Benji’s shop was, admittedly, a failing bookshop, if one were prone to believing things like numbers and spreadsheets and stern calls from the bank carefully avoided with a combination of charm and guile. However, he hadn’t let money stop him yet. He loved this store, every ridiculous, financially unsound inch of it.</p>
<p>“I’ll check in here on the Four Squares thing my daughter installed on my phone,” the stranger waved his device like a flag, “that’ll help out. Draw folks in!” he declared as he backed merrily out the door.</p>
<p>“Yes, very helpful!” Benji called after him. He continued at a lower volume, talking to himself and the stacks, “Might’ve been more of a help if you’d purchased a book, or even a magnet, but hey, what do I know, I just own this place.”</p>
<p>Benji sighed. “Time for lunch?” he asked the small set of ceramic Wizard of Oz characters laid out in army-straight lines, protecting the novelty bookmarks. (Benji figured <em>The Wizard of Oz</em> was the ultimate travel story, really, which was why he’d named his shop after its titular character. The gay connotations didn’t hurt either.) Dorothy and the Tin Man seemed to agree that 2pm was far past lunch time and he should get to it. The Scarecrow was looking at him as if to say, “really, Benji, won’t you someday live up to your word and have a salad?”</p>
<p>“Oh, shove it, farm boy,” Benji said out loud to the judgmental figurine, because he really didn’t see enough actual people during the day. He retrieved his linguini and began to eat with gusto, as if to spite the Scarecrow’s telepathic dietary tut-tutting.</p>
<p>The bell above the door tinkled and Benji glanced reluctantly upwards, thinking that if the internet-loving blond had come back to use the store’s free Wi-Fi, Benji might just cover Dorothy’s porcelain ears and say something colorful.</p>
<p>It was not the man from before. This was a new stranger, sporting a logo-less baseball cap and dark shades. The cut of his leather jacket and tailored jeans screamed money, and he moved with the practiced coolness of someone who lived in the heat of the spotlight.</p>
<p>This was, Benji knew almost immediately with a plunge in his gut, Ethan Hunt.</p>
<p>Benji knew a normal amount about film superstar Ethan Hunt. He’d dutifully seen each installment of the <em>ParadoXX</em> franchise as they arrived, like any red-blooded American boy (even though he was neither American nor young enough to be called, in good faith, a boy). He’d fallen asleep while watching that one with the contradiction in terms in the title, but heard the reviews were good. He’d secretly cherished <em>My Nyght with the Vampyre (1994)</em> even though the critics found it gaudy and plotless. He’d even perused the occasional grocery store trash magazine, though he always shoved them back into place with a guilty flinch, mainly because he didn’t want to donate to any paparazzi’s coffers. After all, if Mr. Hunt wanted to take a trip to the beach and show off his fantastic body, well, that was his business, and he certainly didn’t need any flash bulbs to complete the experience. And, of course, it wasn’t every day one of the biggest movie stars in the business came out as bisexual. Benji had definitely cried at the honesty shining out of Ethan from beneath the PR-ified Coming Out Story™ sheen of that Instagram live session.</p>
<p>Anyway. Benji knew a normal amount about Ethan Hunt. That normal amount included a decent working knowledge of the man’s face, you know, number of eyes and position of the mouth and so on. Certainly enough to recognize him. Which he did. He did indeed recognize Ethan Hunt, standing in his, Benji Dunn’s, bookshop.</p>
<p>He tried to greet the man with a casual, “Hello, welcome to Dorothy’s Stopover, can I help you find anything?” but didn’t even get out the ‘hello.’ Mainly because he’d been enthusiastically engaging in a carbohydrate-heavy lunch. Right.</p>
<p>Must he be mid-way through stuffing a comedic amount of pasta in his mouth when the thrice-voted-sexiest-man-on-earth walked into his bookstore? Another point in the “universe hates me, personally,” column, he thought miserably.</p>
<p>He choked down the bite as quickly as he could without actually risking his life. Then, after a pause to check he was still breathing, he pasted on his least manic customer service smile and said, “Hi, are you finding everything alright?”</p>
<p>“Yes, thank you,” Ethan replied politely, barely lifting his shaded eyes. He was glancing with an empty sort of expression at the shiny rack of expensive fluffy guides-to-London for folks with fanny packs and screaming children, or a desire to experience only the most selfie-worthy sites in the ancient city.</p>
<p>“Those are dreadfully touristy,” Benji couldn’t help but point out, tossing a dismissive flick of his wrist at the big-selling guidebooks.</p>
<p>A sharp eyebrow made an appearance from behind the sunglasses, just below the brim of the hat. “Excuse me?”</p>
<p>“Well, I mean, you’ve been all over the world, right?” Benji half-asked, half-stated, “At least three countries in each <em>ParadoXX</em> film—not to make this weird, I promise, I’m not going to tackle you or beg to have your babies—just to acknowledge that, well, you’re a seasoned traveler. You’ve got experience. Enough to know that if a guidebook’s cover has one of the place’s top three most recognizable landmarks on it, then its contents are best suited to wrapping fish.”</p>
<p>Ethan clicked his tongue and held up the most expensive and gaudy of them all, “Hmm, so what does it mean if it’s got Big Ben <em>and</em> the London Eye <em>and</em> the Bridge on its cover?”</p>
<p>“Oh, it’ll probably kill you instantly,” Benji answered, “and then ask you to rate the experience on Trip Advisor.”</p>
<p>Ethan laughed, quick and high, nothing like the masculine chuckle usually deployed in his best-selling action flicks. Benji was dazzled by it.</p>
<p>“So, ‘Dorothy’s Stopover,’” Ethan pointed to the logo behind the counter, a sparkly red slipper stepping out from the pages of a book spread across a vintage map, “I like it. Do people stop in on their way to or from Oz?”</p>
<p>“Well, that depends how many pints they’ve had from the pub next door,” Benji gestured eastward, “I do get rather a lot of confused gays in, which is fine, since I number among them. And you, too! Gay, not confused. Or, well, bisexual actually, but I usually use ‘gay’ in the umbrella sense, though maybe that’s not the best choice, works out alright most times—anyway, I remember in that lovely coming out video you did you used bisexual. Not that I watched the video! Or didn’t watch the video. I interacted with the video in a very ordinary and supportive-in-the-right-amount way.”</p>
<p>“Uh, thank you,” Ethan seemed puzzled but pleased. In Benji’s life, that counted as a win.</p>
<p>“Anyway!” Benji decided to risk getting a little closer, though not too close, since he imagined a team of snipers-slash-bodyguards cocking their weapons nearby wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. “Books. This is a store that sells books, so let’s set you up with a, er, book. If you just wanted a listicle of hip bistros to visit or a marching tour of historically significant landmarks you could check out that blasted internet and be done with it. If you’re going to the trouble of buying a paper tome,” Benji exaggerated the phrase like a mummy moonlighting as a librarian, “it should be good. Real research, personal investment, charming anecdotes and unexpected humor…” Benji pulled an unassuming little brown volume off the shelf and handed it to Ethan for inspection.</p>
<p>Ethan smiled, tracing the hot pink spray-painted title, <em>Queer City</em>. He stowed his sunglasses and tilted back his cap, giving Benji a full view of his tanned features.</p>
<p>“I hope I’m not being presumptuous,” Benji tacked on a bit belatedly, “It’s just that none of us experience this city in the same way, and in theory one of the benefits on coming to a curated shop like this one is not being handed the same, bland, one-size-fits-none drivel. So, if you’d like a perspective on London’s queer history, then no one can do you better than Ackroyd.”</p>
<p>“Right. So, just to get this straight—if you’ll pardon the expression,” Ethan winked, and Benji bravely didn’t squeal, “you’ve talked me out of buying the expensive glitzy tour books, and into purchasing a modestly priced paperback because you think I’ll enjoy it more?”</p>
<p>“Uh, yes,” Benji beamed.</p>
<p>“And you run a business on that model?”</p>
<p>“Well, not really. I mean, yes, that is the model, no, I don’t really run a business, I basically just pay rent on this place to store all my favorite books in and occasionally trade them for funny bits of paper with people who wander through.”</p>
<p>Ethan laughed again. Benji understood why people paid millions of dollars to make him do that on film for them.</p>
<p>“I’ll take it,” Ethan announced, patting the book’s cover fondly.</p>
<p>“Hmm? Oh, right!” Benji hopped backwards and hit the counter, grabbing the edge and almost tossing himself around the bend in his haste to reach the register. Ethan handed him the book to scan and the tips of their fingers brushed. Benji absolutely did not obsess over that molecule of contact for the entire pecuniary exchange.</p>
<p>“Alright,” Benji grabbed a Dorothy’s Stopover branded bookmark and slipped it between the sheaves of <em>Queer City</em> before tucking it into a 100%-recycled-material paper bag, “there you go! Thanks so much for shopping with us. Or me, really, since ‘we’ is exclusively me. And... because I feel like it would be weirder to not say it than to say it—it’s, uh, been really cool to meet you. So, uh, thanks? For existing and being…you.”</p>
<p>“The same to you,” Ethan returned the stumbling compliment with a subtle smile decorating his probably-well-insured mouth. Benji flushed and made an incoherent sound as Ethan made to leave. He held his breath as one of the most famous people on the planet walked away, figuring he could resume breathing once said famous person had safely exited the premises. Ethan did not, however, make his exit. He paused at the door, lips pursing in the sophisticated cousin of a frown.</p>
<p>“Is something wrong?” Benji asked, before he could think that maybe it wasn’t any of his business.</p>
<p>“Not exactly. I caught a glimpse of a telephoto lens. Telltale sign of the paparazzi—and no offense to your country, but they’re even worse here than in America. Someone thinks they saw that guy from that movie, word spreads, the mob forms….” Ethan sighed, pulling his cap further down his brow and bracing his shoulders like he was going in for a football tackle.</p>
<p>“Wait!” Benji scooted out from behind the counter, bonking both knees and an elbow in his haste. “Maybe you, uh, shouldn’t go out there then. I don’t want you getting buried alive by adoring fans or crazed pseudo-journalists or something.”</p>
<p>“It’s probably not a drowning risk just yet,” Ethan cracked another of those zillion-watt smiles and Benji felt like his insides turned to water. Or maybe ginger ale—light and fizzy.</p>
<p>“Uh, would,” Benji licked his lips, hoping he could hold onto his power of speech for at least a while longer, “would it be better if you waited a while? It’s, uh, not like business is booming, you could just stay and sit and read. There’s a pretty nice chair hidden in the cozy corner with the space books.”</p>
<p>“You have books on space, like, outer space?” Ethan asked, ignoring the rest of the offer for the moment.</p>
<p>“Yes! Travel is aspirational for a lot of people, so, I don’t see why we shouldn’t aspire as high as we can.”</p>
<p>“That’s adorable,” Ethan pronounced. Benji didn’t faint, which he personally thought deserved some kind of award. “Unfortunately, I think these folks might brave coming into the shop in the near future. Otherwise, this would be a very nice place to stay.”</p>
<p>He smiled again, and Benji considered grabbing an armful of the accidentally bulk-purchased <em>Sustainable Australian Travel for Dummies</em>, marching outside, and lobbing the hefty volumes at each and every person who would even think of hassling Ethan.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Benji said, genuinely miserable, “I wish I could do something to help.”</p>
<p>“Unless your travel section also has a door to Narnia…”</p>
<p>Benji laughed, “No, tragically, just a door to the storeroom, the water closet, and then up to my flat.”</p>
<p>Ethan’s eyebrows rose. “You live above this place? I couldn’t tell it was residential from the street.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s surprisingly private. Oh! Would you want to—” Benji started to ask at the same time as Ethan held his hands out and shook his head.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t want to impose—”</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t be!” Benji insisted, “I mean, if you bother me, I can always kick you out, can’t I.”</p>
<p>“You can,” Ethan agreed, faux-solemn. He was already shying away from the door. Benji wondered what invasions of privacy he’d suffered that would make him prefer diving into a stranger’s flat rather than the potential melee outside.</p>
<p>“Right, that’s settled then,” Benji clapped his hands, “Let’s hide you away from your admiring masses in my…terrible, terrible little flat that I definitely should have cleaned, oh god.”</p>
<p>Benji was already having second, third, and fourth thoughts about this offer, but he was in it now. Had he really been talking to ceramic Dorothy and eating lunch just a few minutes ago? What had his life become?</p>
<p>“This is really, really great of you to do. Know that you can pull the cord on this whenever,” Ethan reminded him, following Benji back to the rickety winding stairs that led up from the shop to his living space.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure what that expression means, but I assume it’s permission to chuck you or myself out a window if this becomes too embarrassing.”</p>
<p>“I think I should do the window jumping, if it comes to it,” Ethan mused, “I’ve had some practice.”</p>
<p>“Oh? So, the ‘I do my own stunts’ bit isn’t just bravado?”</p>
<p>“You wound me,” Ethan pressed a hand to his heart, “but yeah, I do most of it. I figure, if someone’s gonna risk their life, it should be me. I think it forces the higher ups to guarantee the stunt’s safety when they’ve got my expensive ass on the line, rather than thinking they can break a working guy’s back for cheap.”</p>
<p>“Wow,” Benji was so moved by the matter-of-fact way Ethan spoke, he pushed open the door to his place without thinking, “that’s…wow.”</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Ethan agreed, eyebrows making their journey back up his forehead as he caught a glimpse of the inside of Benji’s bachelor-pad-chic flat.</p>
<p>“Maybe, uh,” Benji remembered himself enough to rev up a minor panic, “maybe you can just malinger there in the stairwell for a second while I remove the really incriminating stuff…”</p>
<p>“Murder weapons? Drug paraphernalia?” Ethan offered.</p>
<p>“I was thinking more about the week-old-pizza-boxes used as bookmarks situation, but yes, I’ll also get rid of the bloody chainsaw and…and cocaine…uh…tools….” Benji made a gesture near his face, “what do you do with cocaine? Do you smoke it? Is it a smoking one? Would the cool and dangerous version of me have a, a cocaine…bong?”</p>
<p>“Yes, absolutely,” Ethan nodded, “all the cool and dangerous people I know have cocaine bongs.”</p>
<p>“Great, yeah, I’ll add one to my Christmas list, you know, up the ante on my danger vibes,” Benji said, mouth running without accompaniment by his brain as he gathered a gaggle of empty Ben &amp; Jerry’s containers into his arms and dumped them behind the couch.</p>
<p>“Alright,” Benji did a clumsy spin on his hallway’s hardwood floor, deciding that was as good as it was going to get short of a visit from his fairy godmother, “Come on in.”</p>
<p>Ethan stepped cautiously over the off-kilter threshold. His shoulders relaxed minutely when he spotted the massive <em>Star Wars: Return of the Jedi</em> poster framed lovingly over Benji’s TV.</p>
<p>He pointed at it with a grin, “Hey, is that your favorite of the original trilogy? I like the Ewoks, even though people love to hate on them.”</p>
<p>“What’s not to love about adorable space teddy bears!” Benji enthused, joining Ethan in admiring the (authentic, vintage, of course) poster.  </p>
<p>“You know, I never did catch your name…” Ethan trailed off meaningfully.</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah, duh!” Benji shook himself, “Right, um, I’m Benji. Benji Dunn. Proud owner of Dorothy’s Stopover and this overpriced flat. Professional book salesperson, amateur sourdough baker, connoisseur of nigh-unwatchable midcentury science fiction films.”</p>
<p>“Wonderful to meet you, Benji,” Ethan held out his hand and Benji shook it automatically before the insanity of <em>actual physical contact</em> could set in. “I’m Ethan Hunt—which we can both pretend is new information to you—I’m an actor, though my mother does still sometimes hint that I could get a position at my uncle’s advertising firm if this whole theater thing doesn’t work out. I haven’t had a carbohydrate in months and if you bring one near me, I’ll annihilate it and then you.”</p>
<p>“Is that…a yes to a slice from the moderately successful sourdough loaf currently languishing on my kitchen counter?”</p>
<p>Ethan’s mouth pinched with an exaggerated pained expression.</p>
<p>Benji decided to sweeten the deal. “It’s really quite good toasted, and I picked up some lovely plum preserves at the market…”</p>
<p>“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met,” Ethan decided, “Yes, bring the bread immediately.”</p>
<p>And now Benji was sitting on his couch with Ethan Hunt™, munching on toast and sipping hastily brewed tea. Talk about surreal.</p>
<p>Benji waffled over his opening gambit before choosing, “So. Seen any good movies lately?”</p>
<p>Ethan laughed, “Well, yes, actually. I recently attended a preview of Chris’ new film—Chris Nolan, that is—and really enjoyed it.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure when it’s finally released in the theaters for us peasants, I’ll enjoy it too,” Benji jibed, softening it with a grin.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Ethan shook his head, “I was on PR duty for the new <em>ParadoXX</em> for about a millennium and I’m still locked on interview-mode.”</p>
<p>“No, don’t apologize! It’s fun to hear astronomically famous people spoken about like you just had them over for afternoon tea.”</p>
<p>“I did actually have tea with Michael the other day,” Ethan admitted.</p>
<p>“I can’t stand to know which Michael you mean. If you dare tell me, I’ll pour this tea in your lap.”</p>
<p>“Deal.” Ethan seemed pleased. “How about you tell me how you came to own a travel bookstore?”</p>
<p>“Oh, well there’s a long and not terribly interesting story.”</p>
<p>“Sounds perfect.”</p>
<p>Ethan looked at Benji in a way that was somehow both smoldering and tender, and Benji would’ve happily told him anything, up to and including his banking password and the tale of when he got pantsed in front of the entire school at age 11.</p>
<p>Like any good life story, the origin of the bookshop started with Benji’s childhood. His parents, his sister, his nan and her love of traveling through books, which she passed on to him. Benji found sleeping in hostels miserable and didn’t have the kind of stomach that could survive playing roulette with street food. He also never had the kind of money that would allow him to carry the comforts of home with him through travel, and so found that reading about faraway places generally suited him better than actually going there.</p>
<p>Ethan hmmed and nodded in all the right places, and after a while, he softened enough to share some stories of his own when they intersected with Benji’s.</p>
<p>The afternoon sunlight bounced off the glass covering Yoda’s high forehead like a modern sundial, letting Benji know that it was after four.</p>
<p>“Oh, wow, how long have I been yammering on for?” he winced, checking his watch. Yep, the time was very-much-later-than-expected.</p>
<p>Benji stood and peered out the small, half-blocked-off window down at the street below.</p>
<p>“Well, the throng doesn’t seem to have increased in size. Pretty typical for an amiable afternoon. Maybe those camera-carrying troublemakers decided it’s a false alarm?”</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Ethan made a non-committal noise as he leaned over Benji’s shoulder to inspect the situation for himself. Benji held his breath when Ethan’s chest pressed against his back.</p>
<p>“It does look pretty safe,” Ethan admitted. He sounded a touch…disappointed?</p>
<p>“Well, I’ve taken up more than enough of your time.” Ethan grabbed his jacket from where it had been tossed at some point alongside Benji’s own, “I should probably head out.”</p>
<p>“Oh…right. Yeah. Though, trust me, you didn’t take up my time any more than it should’ve been taken up by you—er, well, you know what I mean. Or not. Basically, that I’d have had a dull afternoon of pretending someone might eventually come in, or even more wild imaginings that someone would make an actual purchase, and you saved me from that. So, really I should be thanking you.”</p>
<p>“I guess our thank-yous can just cancel out then,” Ethan grinned, “and we can go on, living our lives, debt-free.”</p>
<p>“Sounds fantastic,” Benji agreed. He was starting to sweat again, the relative normalcy that had descended while they talked torn to shreds by the reality of Ethan’s life.</p>
<p>“Alright. Well, I think I’ll still thank you, anyway,” Ethan held out his hand to shake once again, and Benji hoped Ethan couldn’t tell his was trembling slightly. “Really. I’d appreciate it in any circumstance, but especially because…well, because I think you’re the kind of guy who’d have helped anyone in a jam, whether or not they were…whatever it is getting chased by tabloids makes you. I’m glad to have met you, Benji Dunn.”</p>
<p>Benji gaped. He had no idea how to respond. That turned out not to be a problem, however, since Ethan just tilted his head in a sweet sort of half nod and let himself out.</p>
<p>The door closed with sticky sort of crunch—goddammit, Benji really did need to figure out how to oil those awful hinges.</p>
<p>He just stood there, staring at the grain of the wood, thinking about where to purchase door-improvement-equipment, because what was he now an engineer, how was he supposed to know how to fix a complaining entry-way, he didn’t have a degree in door-doctoring! Anything to not think about everything else that has just happened.</p>
<p>When the door into which he was investing so much contemplative energy was knocked upon a minute later, it nearly sent Benji into cardiac arrest.</p>
<p>He flung it open with more speed than someone who hadn’t been standing directly behind the door would be able. This left Ethan—for it was he, standing on the other side—looking a bit bewildered.</p>
<p>Benji blinked back at him. “Um. Hi.”</p>
<p>“I forgot my book,” Ethan explained from behind his sunglasses.</p>
<p>“Oh! Oh, right.” Benji stepped aside and let Ethan back in. They stood, almost chest to chest in the narrow entryway, for a minor eternity before Ethan gently repeated, “So, the book…”</p>
<p>“Right!” Benji hopped in place, smacking himself on the forehead before scrambling back towards the kitchen to retrieve the familiar bag, where it had been abandoned during Ethan’s love affair with the sourdough. He took a second to look at his reflection in the chrome refrigerator door, meeting his own eyes and mentally hyping himself up. <em>Fifteen more seconds of acting like a normal person, you can do this.</em></p>
<p>He returned and nearly smacked Ethan in the gut with the bag, wincing at the over-eagerness of it all. Ethan still seemed to be hovering between amused and charmed by Benji’s manner, and Benji hoped he would leave before his opinion floated to less hospitable waters.</p>
<p>“Thank you, again,” Ethan gave another of those subtle nods, which Benji suspected were his elegant way of dealing with awkward moments. Benji was also struck in the moment by how similar in height they were. Ethan wasn’t larger than life, he wasn’t even larger than Benji—he just radiated a fantastic proportion of warmth.</p>
<p>Ethan tilted forward on his toes, and for a single shimmering moment, Benji genuinely thought Ethan was going to kiss him.</p>
<p>He didn’t. He didn’t, of course, because that would be weird and inappropriate. Although Benji would naturally be willing to kiss him, it’s not like it would be polite for Ethan to just lean in and smooch Benji without asking, even if he was a movie star. And more than a star, Ethan was a gentleman, so of course, he did no such thing. No kiss. But Benji still felt a tingle in his lips as Ethan stepped away. Without another word, Ethan yanked the recalcitrant door back open and disappeared down the stairs. Down the stairs, and out of Benji’s life. Forever, presumably.</p>
<p>But one should never presume, just as one should never <em>as</em>sume, as it can indeed make an ass out of you and me—or in this case, Benji thought, primarily an ass out of me.</p>
<p>The phone rang, startling Benji out of his mid-morning stupor (he wasn’t fully human until after lunch, though he did drag himself into the shop for those mad pre-noon travel-book shoppers).</p>
<p>“Hi, Dorothy’s Stopover, what can I do ya for?” Benji drawled in an accent he’d picked up from the space-western he’d been watching the night before.</p>
<p>“Hi, Benji? It’s Ethan.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Hello.” Benji’s heart dropped down to his toes. “Hello, Ethan Hunt. Hunt, Ethan. This is, yes, uh, Dunn, Benji. Benji. Benji Dunn. Is me. Yes.”</p>
<p>“Thanks for…elucidating that. Thoroughly.”</p>
<p>“Aha, yeah,” Benji cringed, slapping a hand over his eyes. Was this hell? Was he in hell? Had he died and been sent to the pit or was he cursed to be foolish in front of hot celebrities for all his living days?</p>
<p>Ethan carried on, “Um, I was…I wanted to ask you something.”</p>
<p>Had Ethan just said ‘um’? Was that…a touch of awkwardness? Excellent, maybe Ethan’s attack of the awkwards could give Benji’s live-in clumsiness a moment to re-group.</p>
<p>“I know it’s short notice, but I thought…well,” Ethan definitely sounded a bit nervous, which was now making Benji nervous. “So. The shooting schedule for the Secret Project I Can’t Name In Case My Phone Is Tapped is locked up tight, but Emily’s agreed to throw a pre-arranged tantrum tomorrow night so the director will have no choice but to shut production down for a few hours.”</p>
<p>Benji nodded in response, realizing after a second that he was an idiot and of course Ethan couldn’t see him, because that’s not how phones work. “Okay. That sounds, uh, convoluted?”</p>
<p>“Kinda,” Ethan agreed. “But effective. I thought maybe you and I could…get dinner.”</p>
<p>The line crackled, waspish in Benji’s silence.</p>
<p>“Hello?” Ethan prompted.</p>
<p>“Yes, hi,” Benji said weakly, “just to confirm: did you, er, well, this is going to sound ridiculous, probably the phone fritzed out and I forgot how to comprehend English, because it sounded like—”</p>
<p>“I hope it sounded like I was trying to ask you out. Because I am.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>More silence.</p>
<p>“So,” Ethan pressed on, “if you’re busy I understand…”</p>
<p>“No!” Benji shouted, nearly dropping the phone, “No, I’m not busy, I’m so not busy, I’ve never been less busy in my life.”</p>
<p>“Good.” Ethan sounded like he was smiling. God, Benji hoped he was smiling.</p>
<p>“Good, yes, great,” Benji could feel a babble coming on, but it was doused with the cold water of real life when he realized: “Oh, fuck.”</p>
<p>“Excuse me?” Ethan asked, still as polite as can be.</p>
<p>“Oh, sorry, Jes—fuc—I mean, oh <em>gosh</em>, I’m sorry, really, I cannot believe that the black hole that is my social calendar would do this to me, but…tomorrow is my sister’s birthday. A couple friends and I are throwing her a little dinner party.”</p>
<p>“Ah.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I mean—I mean maybe I can work something out with her, after all, she’s the one who keeps badgering me to actually see people rather than just sit with books all day…”</p>
<p>“No, I’d never ask you to duck out on family,” Ethan gently cut off Benji’s worried ramble, “but if it wouldn’t be too bold of me to ask, or too much of an imposition…I could go as your date?”</p>
<p>“You…you want to go as my <em>date</em>….to my sister’s birthday party?”</p>
<p>“If it’s not too much trouble,” Ethan echoed mildly.</p>
<p>“Trouble? Trouble for <em>me</em>?” Benji tried not to panic. He didn’t succeed. “No, literally nothing could be less troublesome for me. But you’d be signing yourself up for a night locked into a cramped London flat with a pack of authentic weirdoes high on birthday cake. I mean, I love my friends and adore my sister, but we’re not exactly, uh…housebroken.”</p>
<p>“I’ll wear rubber boots,” Ethan said cheerfully, “So, it’s a date?”</p>
<p>“Er, yes?”</p>
<p>“Great! This is my private number, so just text me the details, I’ve gotta run. Bye!”</p>
<p>“B-bye—” Benji sputtered as the line died. He leaned back until he hit the wall, then sank down to the floor. “Holy fuck,” he said to no one in particular.</p>
<p>He had a date with Ethan Hunt.</p>
<p>Benji took approximately the entire day-of to pick out his outfit for The Date. The Date had gone through several re-namings, starting with The Date With Ethan Hunt That I’m Not Entirely Convinced Isn’t An Elaborate Hallucination and moving on to The Date With Ethan Hunt Yes That Ethan Hunt That Will Surely Be The Death of Me before he settled on the shorter and snappier, ‘The Date.’</p>
<p>He ultimately decided on a pair of dark grey slacks paired with a plaid button up and his favorite bow tie. This was a look his sister had in the past named Hipster Nerd You’d Actually Not Mind Talking To At A Wine Tasting. Benji found this description very flattering since he didn’t know anything about wine and liked the idea that he might <em>look</em> like he did.</p>
<p>Ethan was coming from the Mysterious Unnamed Set Location, so they’d agreed to meet at Jane and Ilsa’s flat.</p>
<p>Benji did everything in his power to arrive early, which, combined with his uncanny natural ability to always be late, meant he arrived on time. Ethan stepped out of his cab precisely at the agreed upon hour, which Benji guessed happened naturally and not as a result of combat between best efforts and inherent tardiness.</p>
<p>“Hi,” Benji said cautiously, just in case this really was a wild misunderstanding, and Ethan was here to pick up someone like Kate Blanchett, who had perhaps secretly moved in next door to Benji’s best friends—you never know.</p>
<p>“Hi,” Ethan replied, smiling widely and walking very definitely towards Benji. Alright. Lots of evidence pointing to this being real. That was…good?</p>
<p>“You look fantastic,” Benji commented with a blithe hand-wave at Ethan’s impeccably tailored dark blue pants and just-tight-enough white button-down. His sleeves were rolled up and he looked like an ad for business casual, except both friendlier and sexier.</p>
<p>“I hope this is alright,” Ethan pulled a self-conscious shrug, “I didn’t want to be over-dressed but I didn’t want to look like a slob either.”</p>
<p>“You’ve calibrated the fancy-ness levels of tonight with spectacular accuracy,” Benji assured him. “Ilsa and Jane will look gorgeous but approachable, as you do, while my sister could show up in anything from a respectable sweater-set to a flamingo costume and spike heels. The latter did, in fact, happen at our nan’s ninetieth birthday soiree.”</p>
<p>Ethan laughed, stepping closer. Through the cool night air, Benji could feel the heat of his skin, just a few centimeters away. “I heard so much about your sister when we talked before, I’m excited to meet her and see if she can really live up to the stories.”</p>
<p>“Well, you won’t be disappointed—Maggie is a lot of things, but never disappointing.”</p>
<p>“Shall we?” Ethan bowed towards the sidewalk and Benji gave a princely nod, leading the way. They were giggling by the time they reached the doorway.</p>
<p>Jane had the door open before they’d even knocked.</p>
<p>“Hey, I heard you clowns practically a block away, what’s so funny?” she asked without hesitation or introduction. Her exquisite features were framed by the hot pink ribbons braided in her hair and wrapped around the spokes of her wheelchair. Benji imagined this out-of-character fashion choice was a concession to the birthday girl’s colorful tastes.</p>
<p>“I genuinely have no idea,” Benji admitted. Ethan had sobered up quickly but seemed in no better shape to provide an explanation for the sudden bout of hysterics.</p>
<p>Jane was giving Ethan the hairy eyeball. Benji was proud of Ethan’s cool composure in the face of it—he himself had squirmed so hard the first time he’d experienced it, he’d nearly fallen out of his seat.</p>
<p>“Hey, Benji,” Jane began, “first of all, when you said you were bringing someone, I thought for sure that you’d show up alone and we’d all have to pretend to be surprised and sad about it.”</p>
<p>“Ouch,” Benji feigned heartbreak.</p>
<p>“Second: who is your co-clown here, and why does he look so familiar?”</p>
<p>“I’d be happy to divulge the origin of his clownery, but probably not out of doors,” Benji recommended.  </p>
<p>“Alright,” Jane spun in a tight circle, gesturing for them to follow. “Hey, hon, Benji’s here! And with a strange man in tow. A real guy!”</p>
<p>“A real guy!” Ilsa repeated, coming around the corner in a red-striped apron and looking harried, “not a fictional one?”</p>
<p>“Har-de-har-har, you two crack me up,” Benji deadpanned, “now I’d appreciate it if you could stop maligning my character in front of my date.”</p>
<p>“What are friends for, if not to malign your character in front of…” Ilsa trailed off, eyes widening, “in front of…one of the most famous actors on the planet?”</p>
<p>Jane squinted at Ethan. “This guy?” she checked, pointing at Ethan, as if perhaps Ilsa was talking about Benji’s other, invisible date.</p>
<p>“Yeah, this guy,” Ilsa confirmed, “c’mon, we just watched <em>Obscura</em> last week!”</p>
<p>“Wait, he’s the astronaut who got to fist fight a clone of himself?” Jane mimed throwing a punch.</p>
<p>“Who doesn’t want to hit themselves in the face once in a while?” Ethan shrugged.</p>
<p>“Huh,” Jane nodded, “wicked.” She folded her hands in her lap, apparently satisfied with this answer.</p>
<p>“Well,” Ilsa had also recovered by this point. Benji wasn’t surprised. These two women were easily the least rattle-able people in England, their combined cool-as-a-cucumber energy was off the charts. “I’m Ilsa, and you’ve already met my wife, Jane. It’s nice to meet you….”</p>
<p>“Ethan,” he finished, shaking Ilsa’s hand and then Jane’s, “Ethan Hunt.”</p>
<p>“Is that name real?” Jane asked.</p>
<p>“Is yours?” he shot back.</p>
<p>“Touché,” she grinned, and Benji was a little worried at their fast friendship. He may not be able to survive their combined ribbing.</p>
<p>Benji hurriedly stepped back into the conversation. “Well, we all know what Ethan does for a living, and I’ve basically got ‘owns an unsuccessful bookstore’ written on my glasses. Jane, here, works for NASCAR, which I’m reliably informed is a well-known car racing organization,” Benji explained to Ethan.</p>
<p>“Ah, yes, I think I’ve heard of it,” Ethan tapped his chin.</p>
<p>“She gave up driving years ago for the love of a good woman,” Ilsa piped up with a squeeze of Jane’s shoulder, “since I didn’t want to play second fiddle to an engine.”</p>
<p>“And I’m grateful for the change every day,” Jane took Ilsa’s hand and kissed her palm, “besides, there’s plenty of fun to be had beyond the wheel, in directing it all. And the pay!” Jane whistled and Ilsa laughed.</p>
<p>“Ilsa’s trying to avoid telling us what she does for work,” Benji pressed, teasing.</p>
<p>Ilsa rolled her eyes, the well worn tread of old banter clear, “Only because it’s unbelievably boring, darling.”</p>
<p>“She works for the government!” Benji mock whispered to Ethan, “I suspect MI6. Or MI7. Maybe even MI9.”</p>
<p>“Yes, you’ve caught me,” Ilsa held up her hands, “I work for MI9, we spy on the fifth dimension.”</p>
<p>“I knew it!” Benji snatched an umbrella from the stand nearby, “En guard, you spook!”</p>
<p>“C’mon, Mister Famous Movie Star,” Jane jerked her chin in the direction of the kitchen, carefully avoiding the first blows of Benji and Ilsa’s impending fencing match, “let’s get you a drink. You’ll need it to get through the evening, I promise.”</p>
<p>“Are they always this much fun?” Ethan asked.</p>
<p>“Oh, are we calling it ‘fun’?” Jane quirked a grin over her shoulder, “That’s a good euphemism.”</p>
<p>Benji had gravitated after Ethan, leaving his hindquarters open to attack, a weakness Ilsa mercilessly exploited.</p>
<p>“Hey, we’re loads of fun!” he called after them, rubbing his recently switched-with-a-broom behind.</p>
<p>“You’re loads of something,” Jane agreed.</p>
<p>“We’re the epitome of mature recreation,” Ilsa declared primly, stowing the broom which had recently been switching a certain innocent behind.</p>
<p>“So,” Ethan’s eyes sparkled as he accepted a glass of red from Jane, “How did the three of you get acquainted?”</p>
<p>“Maggie,” all three of them agreed at once.</p>
<p>“No one really remembers how exactly,” Ilsa explained.</p>
<p>“That’s just the way it works with Maggie,” Jane added.</p>
<p>Benji nodded sagely, “My sister is a free spirit.”</p>
<p>As if summoned, the front door banged open with a colossal jangling of chimes. “What is UP y’all mother FUCKERS!” someone shouted gleefully, the sound of boots being chucked and a coat being thrown following behind.</p>
<p>Benji winced. “She’s also a <em>loud</em> spirit.”</p>
<p>“Hi Mags!” Ilsa and Jane chorused as a fiery halo of curly orange hair sprang into view, a wide smile beaming out beneath it.</p>
<p>“Happy Birthday, Maggie,” Benji stood, holding out his arms and bracing himself for a gale-force-wind hug, which he duly received.</p>
<p>“Thanks!” Maggie chirped, going up on her toes to kiss Benji’s cheek. She then starting a cheek-kissing round, beginning with Ilsa, moving on to Jane, and hitting Ethan as well before anyone could introduce him.</p>
<p>“Hey, who’s this guy?” she asked brightly, seconds after laying a wet one on his cheek.</p>
<p>“That’s my uh, well, it’s Ethan,” Benji explained, not sure if he should feel sorry for Maggie, Ethan, both of them, or neither of them, “er…Ethan <em>Hunt</em>.”</p>
<p>“I know that name,” Maggie tapped her foot, “why do I know that name?”</p>
<p>“Well…” Ethan began, but Maggie shushed him with a hand over his mouth.</p>
<p>“No, don’t tell me,” she insisted, “I have an incredible memory. Ok, let’s see. Are you…that delivery guy who hit on my roommate George?”</p>
<p>“Uh, no.”</p>
<p>“Hmm. The other delivery guy who hit on my other roommate, also named George, no relation?”</p>
<p>“Still no.”</p>
<p>“Rats. Ok, wait…politics? Have I seen you on a council poster?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think they let Americans run for office here,” Ethan pointed out.</p>
<p>“Ah, American!” Maggie snapped her fingers, “that helps. Oh…wait…” She took a step back, squinting. “No, you can’t be… because if my brother—to whom nothing exciting ever happens—had something as exciting as what I think happened, happen to him, he would have texted me right away. Right?” She turned wild eyes on Benji. “My dearest big brother would surely tell me, his best and only sister, if he was dating a movie star, and if he was bringing said movie star to my birthday party, right? He’d have let me know I should wear my <em>Flight School (1986)</em> genuine vintage bomber jacket with the patches, <em>right!?”</em></p>
<p>“Oh, well, that’s my fault, actually,” Ethan stood while Benji paled under his sister’s wrath. “I asked him to keep it on the downlow. I thought it would be a nice surprise. He said you liked surprises!” Ethan turned on his megawatt smile and Maggie’s rage tumbled away like an umbrella caught in a hurricane.</p>
<p>“I do love surprises!” Maggie agreed with a squeal, “I also love <em>you</em>! In a very normal way, I promise. <em>Flight School</em> really is my favorite movie of all time, though if I’m being honest, I was rooting for Mr. Kilmer.”</p>
<p>“Hey, so was I,” Ethan elbowed her companionably and she almost vibrated with glee, “And let me tell you, Val really was as cool as his nickname.”</p>
<p>Maggie let out the shriek that had clearly been building for a while. After everyone’s ears stopped ringing, Ilsa suggested, “So…dinner time?”</p>
<p>A round of agreement sounded. Ilsa sat the birthday girl down in the seat of honor and sent Benji to retrieve plates and silverware. Jane opened a glass dishware cabinet in search of an appropriate decanter for the recently opened wine.</p>
<p>“Please, allow me,” Ethan tried to reach over her and retrieve the glass container.</p>
<p>Jane snatched it up first and looked like she was sorely tempted to roll over his foot.</p>
<p>“I’m sure you mean well,” Ilsa told Ethan sharply from the kitchen, “but if Jane wanted your help, she’d ask for it.”</p>
<p>Ethan immediately stepped back, apologizing. Benji suspected if it weren’t for years of experience controlling his every expression, he’d be blushing.</p>
<p>Jane sighed, and Benji recognized the desire in her eyes to not linger on all-too-common annoyances. “Maybe it’s just a bit of failed-gallant method acting,” Jane mused, “After all, I think I heard that your super-secret new project is a gritty, modern remake of Pride and Prejudice. Is it true, are you playing that gentleman-among-gentleman, Mr. Darcy?”</p>
<p>“Wasn’t Darcy a bit of an ass?” Benji interrupted before Ethan was forced to answer.</p>
<p>“The hell would I know?” Jane shrugged, “It’s not like I read the book. I just watched the version with that Harry Potter guy because this one,” she jerked a thumb at Ilsa, “had a crush.”</p>
<p>“I did not!” Ilsa started to protest, but then the oven started letting out panicked beeps and she had to dash away to rescue the poor thing and its unfortunate contents.</p>
<p>Ethan was still shifting guiltily from side to side. “I really am sorry,” he said again to Jane, “I didn’t mean to insult you, or imply that you weren’t capable…”</p>
<p>“I know,” Jane set the decanter down on the table and began pouring the wine, “but you can probably imagine I’m a little tired of saying ‘I know.’”</p>
<p>“I know,” Ethan acceded miserably.</p>
<p>Something occurred to her and she shot an almost mischievous grin at him, asking, “You wanna make up for it by shutting up and listening to my well-researched rant?”</p>
<p>Ethan nodded, sitting down and folding his hands like an attentive school child.</p>
<p>Jane smiled, approving. “Ok. So. I’ve heard disability likened to the idea of Chekov’s gun. You know, if a story mentions a rifle hanging on the wall, then someone’s eventually gotta fire the thing, or you shouldn’t mention it. Disability is like putting a gun on stage—it demands explanation. But why? Real people are more than their backstories! Does knowing if I was born disabled, or if I was in an accident, or if I was kidnapped by aliens or whatever change the way you think about me? If it doesn’t, then why the hell is it any of your business? And if it <em>does</em> change how you think about me, then I wonder what you’d think about getting punched in the balls. Or, better yet, me getting to sit back and watch my <em>wife</em> punch you in the balls.</p>
<p>Really, the thing I hate is when people are desperate to know ‘what happened’ to me but stop giving a shit beyond that. They don’t want to hear about how our insurance won’t cover the chairlift we had to install on the stairs, they don’t want to vote for politicians who’ll actually support pro-disability legislation, they don’t want to write complaints to the businesses that refuse to fix their broken elevators.” She slid a significant look over to Ethan, “They don’t want to petition for disabled actors to play disabled characters, they don’t want to hear disabled stories told by disabled folks, and they don’t want to watch stories that don’t play into pity and inspiration stereotypes.”</p>
<p>Ethan nodded, solemn and thoughtful. “You’re absolutely right. And when you say it like that, the pattern seems so clear—I know I’ve seen all the things you mention in films, including ones I’ve been a part of.”</p>
<p>“Oh, well, speaking of filmic accuracy!” Jane snapped her fingers, “I have some <em>thoughts</em> on how NASCAR and auto racing have been depicted in the movies.”</p>
<p>Ethan leaned forward, hands outstretched. “Oh my god, people think I know everything about pro racing because of that movie I did when I was twenty, but I was flying by the seat of my pants and barely knew what a steering wheel was. Please, tell me everything.”</p>
<p>Jane was thrilled, and immediately launched into a wild anecdote. Ilsa smiled in that soft way that was only for her wife and those lucky few who got to see her looking at her wife. “There’s the next hour of conversation, gone,” she remarked to Benji.</p>
<p>“Oh, at least,” he agreed.</p>
<p>The conversation raced through cars, cuisine, and careers as they tucked into some mostly-not-burnt guinea fowl (Ilsa was not usually allowed in the kitchen, and for good reason). It did a U-turn back to cars that had Benji mock-snoring and claiming authentic gay-based ignorance of all things automotive, as he “leaves all the grease and wrenches to leather dykes, far more suited to it than I.”</p>
<p>“It’s true, you’re just not cool enough to know what a fan belt is,” Maggie agreed, patting his arm kindly.</p>
<p>“Obviously, I’m not mad that my punk rock lesbian besties are cooler than me, a bookshop-owning gay,” Benji pointed out, “That’s the natural order of things, really.”</p>
<p>“Yeah!” Jane agreed, “Obviously Benji’s a geek, but that’s a good thing in this house. Who else would we call when we can’t get the Netflix to work?”</p>
<p>“And you said you’re not a technical guy,” Ethan knocked his shoe against Benji’s.</p>
<p>“If it’s mechanical, I’m in over my head. If it’s software-based, I might be able to help you,” Benji clarified.</p>
<p>“Next time I forget my email password, you’ll be the first one I call.”</p>
<p>Benji knew it was a joke, but also, he would be thrilled to talk Ethan through a corporate password retrieval process—he could imagine it now, with Ethan furrowing his brow and poking buttons with his index finger instead of his thumb, and generally being a grumpy old man about it.</p>
<p>Oh, hell, Benji realized, I have it bad. Like, really bad. Way too bad for a guy I’ve known for what amounts to a few hours.</p>
<p>“Time for gifts!” Ilsa announced with a clap of her hands.</p>
<p>Maggie wiggled in her seat, the pink boa around her shoulders flopping happily about.</p>
<p>“This is from us,” Jane slid a long, wide, thin package out from behind the couch.</p>
<p>Maggie took it with excitement, tearing the wrapping paper off and setting the big red bow on top of her head, where it clashed magnificently with her hair.</p>
<p>“It’s…” Maggie squinted down at the package, turning it clockwise until the label came into view.</p>
<p>“It’s a laundry rack,” Ilsa explained, “since the last time we were at your place, you were drying your tights on the ceiling fan.”</p>
<p>“And if you open it,” Jane tapped the package, “you’ll see this bad boy enjoyed an upgrade.”</p>
<p>Maggie ripped the top off the box and dragged out a foldable laundry rack that had been painted a searing shade of neon green, and fabulously bedazzled along its plastic hinges.</p>
<p>Ilsa laughed at Maggie’s starstruck gasp. “You know we couldn’t be <em>entirely</em> boring and practical.”</p>
<p>“Aw!” Maggie dropped the rack on the table with a clang, hopping up to throw her arms around Ilsa and Jane, “You guys are the best.”</p>
<p>“We know,” Jane agreed, patting Maggie’s back. It was a good thing Jane was a professional athlete and that Ilsa was mysteriously fit from her mysterious employment, since Maggie’s crushing hugs weren’t altogether different from wrestling holds.</p>
<p>“Yes, alright, well done,” Benji sniffed, “but I still think my gift is better. Unlike you, I labor under no impulse to be pragmatic.”</p>
<p>Benji offered a small, clumsily wrapped package and Maggie pounced on it like a cat sighting a laser dot.</p>
<p>She unearthed a modest cardboard box and rent that open to reveal a wooden carving of a squirrel, about eight inches tall. It had bright purple eyes and was clutching an acorn to its heart.</p>
<p>“Oh!” Maggie touched the chiffon cape and silk nightcap the preposterous creature wore. “He’s got a little hat.” She was tearing up.</p>
<p>“And if you push that button…” Benji pointed to a button disguised as the top of the squirrel’s acorn. At a light press, out of the squirrel’s taciturn features poured a tinny rendition of Britney Spears’ “Toxic.”</p>
<p>“Apologies in advance to your roommates,” Benji shouted over the chorus.</p>
<p>“The Georges will love it,” Maggie proclaimed, “because I love it. It is simply divine. Where in the world did you find my precious little Chester?” She turned briefly to Ethan to explain in an aside, “All squirrels are named Chester, with a few Margarets sprinkled in. But I can tell, this is definitely a Chester.”</p>
<p>“I discovered Chester beneath a quilt at a local jumble sale. I did have to arm wrestle an elderly woman who had her eye on him first.”</p>
<p>“Did you win the match?” Maggie inquired.</p>
<p>“No,” Benji admitted without shame, “she beat me soundly but took pity when I explained it was a gift for England’s number one fan of urban rodents.”</p>
<p>Maggie cooed over Chester, and Ilsa patted the thing’s head. Jane patted Maggie’s head instead and said if anyone pressed the song-button again she wouldn’t be held responsible for her actions.</p>
<p>“Well, I certainly can’t compete with a gift of that caliber,” Ethan said, producing a slim package from nowhere (seriously, where had he hidden that?), “but I hope you’ll accept my humble offering.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Maggie insisted, even as she nearly tore the package from Ethan’s hands.</p>
<p>“I may be a rude, snobby celebrity, but I know that when you get invited to a birthday party, the polite thing to do is bring a gift,” Ethan replied, somehow managing to be snarky and sincere at the same time.</p>
<p>Maggie gasped as she delicately folded back the tissue paper protecting a scarf. She lifted it reverently from its wrappings and the assembled oohed and ahhed at the excellent pattern: a series of French bulldogs smoking cigarettes while wearing everything from top-hats to lingerie.</p>
<p>“Oh, this is…” Maggie looked on the verge of tears again, “this is <em>perfect</em>.”</p>
<p>“I’m so glad you like it,” Ethan beamed, “Benji told me so much about you, I wanted to find something special.”</p>
<p>“It’s the special-est!” Maggie assured him, wrapping the scarf over the boa—a head-turning look, to be sure.</p>
<p>Benji was about bursting with goodwill, so he laid his hand over Ethan’s forearm, hoping it wasn’t too forward. “That was so thoughtful.”</p>
<p>Ethan beamed some more, covering Benji’s hand with his own. And now they were holding hands, and Benji felt like it was <em>his</em> birthday, with all these miracles bouncing off the walls around him.</p>
<p>After the presents had been evacuated to a safe distance, the quintet dug into the gorgeous birthday cake that Ilsa had personally seen delivered safely from the bakery. Which, considering the state of foot traffic that particular afternoon, she argued was frankly more impressive than baking it herself.</p>
<p>The cake was decimated, the gifts were revisited and complimented, and the wine was finished with great enthusiasm. Both Benji and Maggie were pink all the way to the tips of their ears by the end of the night, though for somewhat different reasons.</p>
<p>When they were finally packing themselves off to give Ilsa and Jane the quiet of their home back, Benji pulled his sister aside to ask, “Did you have a good birthday?”</p>
<p>“The absolute best. And I’m not just saying that because you promised lewd favors to my favorite film star to get him to attend.”</p>
<p>“There were no promised favors, lewd or otherwise!” Benji sputtered.</p>
<p>Maggie shook him by the shoulders, “Well then, get on it! The opportunity for lewdness—lewdity?—lewd behavior, whatever! It will not last forever.”</p>
<p>Benji shuddered, but he didn’t disagree.</p>
<p>“Love you, Benji,” Maggie pushed on his shoulders until she could stand on her toes to kiss his forehead.</p>
<p>“Gross,” Benji declared, “but I love you, too.”</p>
<p>Jane and Ilsa saw Maggie safely stowed in a cab, while Ethan and Benji decided the night was nice enough to walk to…wherever they were walking to, Benji wasn’t clear on that point. But he didn’t much care where they were going, as long as Ethan was there.</p>
<p>“Thanks again for having me to your home,” Ethan was shaking Jane and Ilsa’s hands, but without the veil of professional distance he’d been sequestered behind at the start of the night, “I had a wonderful evening.”</p>
<p>“It was our pleasure,” Ilsa replied fondly.</p>
<p>“You’re not half bad,” Jane agreed, just as fond.</p>
<p>“Alright, enough with the effusive praise,” Benji rolled his eyes, “you’re a married woman!”</p>
<p>Jane laughed, and Benji bent to kiss her and Ilsa on the cheek in turn.</p>
<p>He and Ethan stepped into the chill night air—not cold yet, but with a bite that wouldn’t be ignored. The door shut behind them, leaving only the quiet roar of distant traffic and muffled rustle of drying leaves.</p>
<p>Benji watched as Ethan paused at the end of the walk, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply through his nose.</p>
<p>“You alright, mate?” Benji asked, feeling a wave of that tender concern he only usually experienced when confronted with mewing kittens or children crying in the train-travel nook.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Ethan turned a slow smile on him, “It’s just…been a while since I did something that wasn’t about work. A long time, really. Eating, sleeping, talking to friends—in the end, it’s always adding up to something. Building towards a project that I hope brings joy to someone. I think I’d forgotten what it feels like to be part of the small joys of real life…” Ethan shook himself, laughing uncomfortably. “Wow, that probably sounded very—”</p>
<p>“Tragic,” Benji voted, “maybe sweet with a side of heartbreaking?”</p>
<p>“I was going to say self-centered.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think enjoying dinner with friends is self-centered. Or any of the rest.”</p>
<p>“Well, you’ve a very good person, Benji, you wouldn’t think ill of anyone.”</p>
<p>“Oh…” Benji tried to wave him off. They were meandering slowly down the block, straying towards the quiet, lush, locked gardens of the nearby wealthy.</p>
<p>“Really, I think someone could take a baseball bat to your front window, and you’d just pat them on the back and ask about their relationship with their father.”</p>
<p>“Well, I think I’d kick them in the shins first, but then yes, I’d turn directly to Freudian therapy afterwards.”</p>
<p>Ethan let his head fall back with a laugh, and the moon caught the white of his teeth. It was a weird thing to find beautiful, but Benji found it so anyway.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Ethan pressed his face to the wrought-iron gate protecting some rich bastard’s private duck pond, “this is gorgeous.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Rich people hoard it all for themselves. No offense!” Benji added hurriedly.</p>
<p>“None taken—I grew up on a farm that could barely make ends meet, I hate hoarded wealth as much as the next working class guy. And wait, do you really mean all these lovely parks are off-limits to the public?”</p>
<p>“I do indeed.”</p>
<p>Ethan gave the locked gate the kind of frown Benji recalled him giving ticking nuclear bombs in <em>ParadoXX</em> <em>2: Double Time.</em> Then, Ethan took a running leap at the fence, easily clearing the lower row of spikes and vaulting himself over the top. He landed, lithe and catlike on the other side.</p>
<p>Benji took a second to recover from his heart attack. “Jesus!” was all he could say.</p>
<p>Ethan was smug as he unlatched the gate from the inside. He reached through the now-open arbor path. After a moment, Benji realized Ethan was waiting for his hand.</p>
<p>Benji didn’t make him wait any longer.</p>
<p>They closed the gate quietly behind them, walking hand in hand down the moonlit path. Benji imagined an OST lifting their every step, a chorus in every crunch of gravel beneath their feet—music to fall in love to.</p>
<p>Benji had never wanted a <em>Star Trek</em> romance for himself—falling hopelessly for some handsome guest star with putty on their nose before the second commercial. But here he was, enjoying the second act and hoping he was standing in front of a new recurring character. And, hoping this wouldn’t end in tears by the time the credits rolled.</p>
<p>They paused by silent mutual accord at the glittering shore of a magnificent duck pond, currently absent of ducks, but no less breathtaking as it reflected the stars in miniature on every ripple.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Benji decided to break the ice, “A night of not-so-wild revelry with my loveable but odd friends and family probably wasn’t at the top of your to-do list.”</p>
<p>“No, thank <em>you</em>. That was the best night I’ve had in a really, really long time.”</p>
<p>Benji ran his thumb along the edge of Ethan’s hand. “I’ve seen enough movies about movie stars to guess your life isn’t all champagne and gorgeous women in backless dresses.”</p>
<p>“Even when it is, a person gets tired of all the bubbles and helping one’s friends tape their clothes back into place.”</p>
<p>“Tape! Is that the secret to improbably perched garments?”</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s one of many,” Ethan waggled his eyebrows.</p>
<p>Benji laughed, loosening his bow tie. Ethan was looking at him in a way that made Benji’s already jogging heartrate step up to a sprint.</p>
<p>“You know,” Ethan announced casually, “I really wanted to kiss you when I left your apartment the other day.”</p>
<p>Oh, Benji had <em>wasted</em> that heart attack on Ethan vaulting the gate.</p>
<p>“You did?!”</p>
<p>Ethan winced, “Yeah…I thought it was painfully obvious.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it was <em>not</em>. I guess…maybe I picked up on it, but I thought I was just projecting how badly I was wishing you’d kissed me.”</p>
<p>“Maybe I can have a second chance, then. We’ve gone on a date, your friends seem to approve of me, we can hold a conversation. You basically don’t hate me, I hope.”</p>
<p>“I basically don’t hate you, even a little bit,” Benji clarified, “I basically, if we’re being honest, am hopelessly infatuated with you.”</p>
<p>“That’s really great news, because I spent this whole morning and afternoon staring into space with a smile that Tony kept saying was way too soppy for Bell.”</p>
<p>“Aw,” Benji’s head was spinning. He was really standing here, having a mutual attraction with probably one of the most attractive men on the planet. Was that even legal?</p>
<p>“Wait!” he blurted, as the specifics of what Ethan said cut through the glow of ‘he likes me, he likes me, he likes me!’ “Bell? As in, Bell from <em>Flight School</em>?”</p>
<p>Ethan closed his eyes, clenching his fists. “Dammit. I’d been doing so well.”</p>
<p>“Holy shit, are you filming a <em>sequel</em>?! And…here? What is this, <em>Flight School: Across the Pond</em>?”</p>
<p>Ethan barked a surprised laugh, “Okay, I actually love that. More than the real title, which I absolutely cannot tell you.”</p>
<p>“Right, of course,” Benji held up both hands, “my lips are sealed. I swear on my mother’s grave—not that she’s dead, but she’s already purchased the plot, because she likes to plan ahead—that I won’t tell anyone anything. Especially my sister, who would probably take out an entire city block with her screaming if she found out.”</p>
<p>“And we want to avoid casualties,” Ethan agreed, “including me, who would be murdered if it got out that I was the leak.”</p>
<p>“Right,” Benji nodded firmly, “definitely do not want you dead, that would really wreck our relationship.”</p>
<p>Ethan blinked, then broke into a smile. “So…does that mean we have a relationship?”</p>
<p>“Huh? <em>Oh</em>. Oh, yes I…bit presumptuous of me to say, perhaps.” Benji hoped his blush didn’t glow like radioactive waste in the dim light.</p>
<p>“Well, I was trying to be presumptuous and kiss you a minute ago, and that didn’t work. So, I guess it’s your turn at bat.”</p>
<p>“Let’s be presumptuous together,” Benji offered, and Ethan seemed inclined to agree, because he leaned in until their noses brushed.</p>
<p>They kissed, soft and chaste and with a breath of nerves. Then, more firmly and a lot less chaste—hands and tongue and chest-to-chest.</p>
<p>A duck quacked from somewhere in the dark and they broke apart laughing.</p>
<p>“We have an audience!” Benji twiddled his fingers in the direction of the disgruntled waterfowl.</p>
<p>“Peeping tom!” Ethan feigned outrage, and quacked back at the duck, sending Benji into bouts of giggles. “Maybe let’s go somewhere bird-free to continue this…conversation,” he suggested, with an arm around Benji’s waist.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Benji was once again grateful for the cover of darkness, he didn’t think he could bear for Ethan to see him clearly when he was this flustered, “well, lead the way.”</p>
<p>They left the park at a leisurely pace, and if a few more kisses were stolen, well. It’s not like the ducks could tell anyone.</p>
<p>Benji left the usual way, through the gate, and Ethan locked it after him before elegantly launching himself back over the fence, leaving the scene untouched. Benji was sure now that Ethan was showing off, which was totally fine by him, because he was duly impressed.</p>
<p>They laughed and kidded and held hands across town. Benji vaguely recognized the street they were meandering down, but couldn’t quite place it, probably because his sense of direction had been replaced with a double dose of personality (his father had told him this as a teenager, and Benji still wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not).</p>
<p>“So, where are you staying?” Benji prompted.</p>
<p>“The Ritz,” Ethan admitted with a pause, waiting for the jibe.</p>
<p>“Of course, you are. Why did I even ask?” Benji shook his head. “Despite my lowly proletariat status, I suppose I can walk you back.”</p>
<p>“Door to door service, what a gentleman.”</p>
<p>“Naturally, good sir, pip pip and all that.”</p>
<p>“Oh, stop,” Ethan almost doubled over with laughter, “that’s almost worse than the Irish accent I did in <em>Go the Distance</em>.”</p>
<p>“I never saw that one.”</p>
<p>“Please don’t. I’ve been told I’m ‘cute’ in it, which I think is code for ‘can’t act, but at least there was a shirtless scene.’”</p>
<p>Benji had his phone out and the search running. “Oh my god, look at your hair! You are too precious with curls.”</p>
<p>“Shut up,” Ethan tried to make a grab for the phone, unsuccessfully. Benji began to suspect it had all been a ploy when he was kissed up against the last brick wall with a semblance of privacy between them and the main road.</p>
<p>“I know I won’t be here for much longer,” Ethan murmured against his mouth, “but maybe…”</p>
<p>Benji eagerly anticipated the conclusion of that maybe. It never came.</p>
<p>Ethan’s focus had shifted towards some sort of hubbub gathering at the front of the hotel. He peered around the corner, mouth setting in a grim line.</p>
<p>Benji followed his gaze, spotting a crowd of paparazzi and fans and curious passersby swarming something—someone. Dark hair and slim shoulders were crushed in the center of the shouting, sweating bodies and the pretty but worried—and angry—face was familiar.</p>
<p>“Julia,” Ethan said under his breath, “she wasn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Benji knew the name. He’d pretty sure he’d seen it in lights next to Ethan’s. He watched Ethan shut down the panic building behind his soft eyes, and for a moment, Benji was reassured. Then the warmth of Ethan’s hand was gone from his.</p>
<p>“Julia. Your….co-star?” Benji tried, feeling clammy.</p>
<p>“Yeah. And my wife.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Benji paled. Maybe he should’ve spent more time reading those grocery store rags, then he might’ve had a clue that <em>Ethan was married</em>. What the <em>fuck!</em> But wait, wouldn’t his friends have said something if he’d turned up with an infamously married man?</p>
<p>“We’ve been separated for a while,” Ethan explained before Benji could ask, “but we’re still friends, and I can’t…” He didn’t finish his sentence. Benji saw him look darkly at the cameras.</p>
<p>Benji put the pieces together. It wasn’t hard. Gorgeous lady who Ethan was still technically married to being mobbed versus random guy he met yesterday lounging awkwardly by the bins. What did Benji expect, for Ethan to lock arms with him and make a big gay announcement to all of London, whilst totally ignoring his not-quite-ex-wife?</p>
<p>Even setting aside all the inevitable homophobic backlash, it’s not like he and Ethan were Together-Together. They’d shared a few kisses and jokes, and feelings that Benji had clearly misinterpreted the depth of.</p>
<p>Benji was going to say he understood. He was going to say Ethan should go out there and rescue Julia, who seemed quite capable but still shouldn’t have to deal with this on her own.</p>
<p>He didn’t have to, because Ethan had already left. Without a word, or a touch.</p>
<p>Ethan waded into the crowd of journos, slicing through flash bulbs and microphones with a fierce expression. He put his arm around Julia, who looked desperately relieved even at this distance, and Benji couldn’t bear to see or hear anymore.</p>
<p>If you’d asked Benji three days ago what he thought of Ethan Hunt, he’d have said, ‘that’s the one from all those action films, right?’ to cover his minor, embarrassing celebrity crush. If you’d asked Benji yesterday what he thought of Ethan Hunt, he’d have said, ‘not just a pretty face—a good man with a lot of heart.’</p>
<p>Neither version of Ethan meshed with what Benji had just seen, leaving Benji to conclude that he was probably the shittiest judge of character in the country, if not the hemisphere.</p>
<p>Some part of him correctly deduced that he shouldn’t be alone when he was this upset. Benji found himself back at Ilsa and Jane’s place with only a vague memory of how he got there. Perhaps a cab was involved?</p>
<p>Ilsa answered the door this time. She took one look at him before shepherding him inside and calling to Jane, “We’ve got a heartbreak in progress! Chocolate and booze, stat!”</p>
<p>Boozed and chocolated, Benji was not placated. “Who was I kidding?” he moaned after giving a slightly tearful recount of the evening’s most recent events, “She’s a gorgeous successful driven movie star like him, and I’m a stunningly average, nearly bankrupted and generally inept bookstore owner. I mean, I saw her in that movie—you know, the one with Robert Downey and the murder mystery I couldn’t follow at all, and I’m still not sure who did it or even who died? She was incredible! Show stopping.”</p>
<p>“Maybe talking to Maggie could help,” Ilsa said with that panicked look in her eye that meant she was encountering An Emotion and didn’t know how to deal with it. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Benji sighed, “but I don’t want to bother her this late. And on her birthday!”</p>
<p>“Hmm, but wouldn’t you <em>like</em> to see her?” Ilsa pressed, with a tinge of desperation.</p>
<p>“Well yes, but—"</p>
<p>“Good because we already texted her,” Jane announced, “and she’ll be here any minute.”</p>
<p>Maggie was there the very next minute, in an impressive display of speed.</p>
<p>“How did you get across town in thirty seconds? Invent warp travel?” Jane asked as Maggie threw her coat off her shoulders, almost knocking over the television.</p>
<p>“Don’t be ridiculous,” Maggie waved a many-bangled wrist, “I was already on my way here. I was getting a totally gigantic psychic vibration that Benji was in distress.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to rain on your birthday parade,” Benji said, looking like he certainly about to start raining on something.</p>
<p>“You’re not,” Maggie threw her arms around him, cheek pressed against the top of his head, “the parade packed up and went to bed hours ago. This is regular-edition Maggie now. So, tell me what’s happened, and then I’ll figure out how to get past a pack of secret service guys so I can drop kick that dumb movie star’s ass.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think movie stars have secret service.”</p>
<p>“Really? Who do the secret service protect, then?”</p>
<p>“Um, politicians, I believe.”</p>
<p>“That’s stupid! If anything, they should be protecting service-people, like mail carriers. ‘Service,’ it’s in the name! Politicians don’t provide a service.”</p>
<p>“You’re so right,” Benji agreed, trying not to sob on the Maggie’s brand-new novelty scarf.</p>
<p>Maggie noticed the offending item and began to take it off.</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t do that,” Benji said damply.</p>
<p>“It’s, it’s not that great,” Maggie pulled the thing off and handed it to Jane, who solemnly tossed it under the couch—a place it may never return from. “Who needs the funniest scarf in the world if it’s from a mean man who broke my brother’s heart.”</p>
<p>“I knew him for like five minutes! It’s really not a big deal.” Benji’s insistence was somewhat undercut by the honking sneeze and muffled sob he pressed into one of Ilsa’s proffered tissues.</p>
<p>“Ethan Dunce, that’s what I say,” Maggie decreed.</p>
<p>“I like that, Ethan Dunce,” Jane agreed, patting Benji’s hand.</p>
<p>Ilsa concurred as well. After the tears stemmed, they broke out the remains of the birthday cake and the birthday wine and had a slightly more somber birthday-party-round-2, featuring lots of ragging on a certain stupid-pants-no-brains-movie-shmuck.</p>
<p>Benji slept on Jane and Ilsa’s couch. They said he could stay there as long as he liked, but when they both left for work he followed, locking up after them all.</p>
<p>He went to his bookshop, which seemed both familiar and deeply strange. He knew it was the same, and he was the one who was different, but it was still a bit like a waking dream to unlock the door and turn round the sign and start the coffee and check the register.</p>
<p>He made it through breakfast (two hardboiled eggs and brown toast from the sympathetic pub owner next door), three customers (one of whom had actually realized this was a travel bookstore, entered on purpose, and proceeded to purchase an actual book), and a small rush of online specialty orders.</p>
<p>He'd almost managed to convince himself that he was ok, fine, really just dandy and definitely totally normal and emotionally sound when the cheery bell above the door heralded a new visitor.</p>
<p>It was the last person Benji had expected—or wanted—to see. The only thing worse than never seeing Ethan again, Benji realized, was seeing Ethan again.</p>
<p>“Hello,” Ethan said. He was downright meek, and for some reason, that made Benji furious.</p>
<p>Benji returned an icy, “Hi,” but didn’t respond further. He didn’t have a clue what to say, and besides, didn’t know what else there <em>was</em> to say. Ethan had a movie star wife, Benji had debt up to his ears and a graying beard.</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry that I left things like that, last night, that I left you,” Ethan began, tone slow and measured, “It was inexcusable.”</p>
<p>Benji clamped down on his automatic instinct to assure Ethan that it was excusable and fine, because it was <em>not</em> excusable and fine, and he shouldn’t say it just because he was hardwired to avoid conflict. A bitter silence was the closest he could come to shouting that outright.</p>
<p>Ethan tried again, “I really can explain—”</p>
<p>“Please, don’t bother.” Benji flinched at the harshness of his own words. But he carried on, thinking of how utterly crushed he’d felt all night and all day—maybe he’d been flying high when things were good, but he couldn’t take a fall like that again. “Listen, I appreciate you coming by. I understand why you had to leave and I believe your apology, I really do, but…” Benji sighed, taking off his reading glasses and scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “The thing is, these days with you have been the wildest of my life. I’m not sure my heart rate went below triple digits the whole time. And maybe that’s fun for a little while, but do you see it lasting? I mean, for goodness’ sake, you’ve literally already got a ticket booked out of the country inside the month.”</p>
<p>Ethan ducked his head, and Benji saw him biting his lip. “Yeah,” Ethan said more to his shoes than to Benji, “yeah, that’s…that’s true. This is all my fault. Maybe I should never have called you in the first place, not when there was no way this didn’t end…well, that it didn’t end.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Benji echoed, hollow.</p>
<p>“I guess I’ll…well, I probably won’t see you around,” Ethan realized.</p>
<p>“Nope. But I’ll see you—front row when the secret new movie comes out. I’m sure you and Julia will be wonderful.”</p>
<p>Ethan looked like he might be sick.</p>
<p>“Do you mind turning the sign to closed on your way out?” Benji asked, because he didn’t have the nerve or the heart to tell Ethan to take a hike directly, “I have some errands to run.”</p>
<p>“Right, of course,” Ethan said. Benji was probably imagining his voice cracking. “Goodbye, Benji.”</p>
<p>“Goodbye, Ethan.”</p>
<p>He left, the tinkle of the bell like salt in the wound.</p>
<p>Benji felt like he was being watched and turned to find his ceramic set of Oz characters glaring up at him with all the disapproval contained in their tiny, non-sentient bodies.</p>
<p>“I’m being mature,” Benji told Dorothy fiercely. Her unevenly painted eyes seemed on the verge of tears. “Seriously, this is the right move!”</p>
<p>The Cowardly Lion got in on the inanimate-shaming action. Hell, Benji blinked, when even the cowardly lion is calling your bluff…</p>
<p>“Shit, shit, shit, this is <em>not</em> the right move,” Benji muttered to himself as he leapt out from behind the counter and dashed for the door.</p>
<p>He glanced around, searching for Ethan, and found his slumped shoulders no more than a dozen feet to his left.</p>
<p>“Ethan, wait!” Benji chased after him.</p>
<p>Ethan turned around, confused and little wary.</p>
<p>“Oh god, I’m so glad I caught you,” Benji huffed, telling himself he was more winded by the emotion than the exercise, “I mean, I know a run through the airport is basically required by law in rom-coms nowadays, but frankly I just don’t have the cardio skills for it.”</p>
<p>“Huh?” Ethan’s gloomy expression cleared in the path of a baffled one.</p>
<p>“I mean…” Benji paused, trying to figure out what the hell it was that he meant. “I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t even give you a chance to explain and…and I think it’s because I was just so scared—really, <em>am</em> so scared—that it’ll make me feel even more inadequate than I already am.”</p>
<p>“What? I…” Ethan’s nonplussed little face was so sweet it made Benji’s heart ache.</p>
<p>“Just…could you tell me why you left me behind like the greasy wrapper on an unsatisfying hamburger?”</p>
<p>“Because I’m an idiot,” Ethan answered immediately. “And also, that’s such an unflattering simile, you were not an unsatisfying hamburger, you were very satisfying, a great hamburger I…think the problem may have been in the larger comparison to a sandwich, actually.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Benji said kindly, “would you like to try again?”</p>
<p>“Yes. Seriously, I know I was a total asshole, and you deserved so much better. I should’ve told you what was going on, but I got so caught up in my head I couldn’t see straight. I was just thinking about everything the pseudo-press has put me through, and put Julia through, and I was thinking about how everything would look to <em>them</em>, and not how it would feel for you. And I’m so sorry.”</p>
<p>Ethan looked like he was gearing up for a longer speech, and Benji gave a curt nod to a stranger who stared at them a bit too long. So, two blokes were having a heart to heart on the pavement! He almost shouted after her, that’s not illegal yet!</p>
<p>“The thing is,” Ethan pointed both hands at Benji, palms flat like he was giving a lecture, “We just announced last week that Julia and I are doing this film together, and the marketing people thought it would be good if we were seen together off-set, and if we didn’t immediately quash any rumors that we were getting back together. Especially since we’re trying to walk the tightrope of hyping a movie without a title while not revealing what it is yet, so, our will-they-won’t-they story could generate some non-spoiler buzz. Which is so horrible, I know!” Ethan dragged a hand over his face, “Julia immediately told them all to go to hell. But I…I saw their point, some cold part of me is so used to that sort of thing, and…”</p>
<p>Ethan was out of breath, and Benji was melting like ice cream on a summer sidewalk. “I’m worried because the last two movies Julia led tanked <em>so badly</em>—through no fault of her own! That first director was shit, and the studio interfered so often in that last one that it was basically done by committee. And I just thought that if some stupid tabloid story about us reuniting could get the movie some hype and make sure the calls kept coming in for her, for <em>good</em> stuff, not playing the mom who dies or the scary but sexy principal or whatever shitty typecasting she’s being dragged into…”</p>
<p>Ethan looked worn to the bone, and Benji could hardly keep himself from hugging Ethan. His eyes! The sad little droop of his mouth! It was too much.</p>
<p>“Oh, Ethan,” Benji compromised by squeezing Ethan’s shoulders with both hands, “that’s absolutely the most heroic reason for being a jackass I’ve ever heard.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“Really. Not just heroic, romantic—even though you’re not in love with her anymore, you still were willing to leap up on your white horse to protect her and her career. Oh, um, you’re not…”</p>
<p>“Not in love with her anymore,” Ethan confirmed, “I mean, I’ll always love her with a little L, but we realized our lives just weren’t meant to be spent together, that way.”</p>
<p>“Right, good,” Benji blew a relieved gust of air, “Excellent. Now that would have been a problem. Anyway, you are forgiven!”</p>
<p>Ethan’s jaw would have dropped, if he weren’t too well-trained to let it do so. “That’s it?”</p>
<p>“Yep. Pretty much! I’m completely re-romanticized.”</p>
<p>Flummoxed, Ethan added, “That’s…amazing. But it would be ok if you were still angry. I should’ve told the marketing bastards to go to hell, first class, just like Julia did. And then not doubled-down on that mistake.”</p>
<p>“Eh,” Benji shrugged, “It’s kind of reassuring to know that you goof up and get nervous just like the rest of us mere mortals. And honestly, I’m so relieved it wasn’t about me. Specifically, me being too desperately embarrassing to be seen with in public.”</p>
<p>“No!” The genuine horror in Ethan’s voice was flattering, “How could you think…! Benji, no. All I was thinking about was how miserable those damn cameras have made me, and how I didn’t want them to hurt Julia <em>or</em> you.”</p>
<p>“I’m very touched by the thought.” Benji felt so light on his feet, he could’ve floated off to Oz, wherever it may exist. “Also, glad that this didn’t seem to be about avoiding a second coming-out scandal. Not that it wouldn’t be totally fair to want to avoid, I just am not interested in re-entering any closets, myself.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Well, if you were seen in public with a guy…right after separating from your wife…” Benji gestured obscurely with his hands, intending to render the warped workings of straight gossip-mongers’ minds.</p>
<p>Ethan blinked. “That…did not occur to me.” He blinked again. “I guess I should maybe be worried about that.”</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t bother, I’m sure I can be worried enough for the both of us. That is,” Benji coughed, “if there is even a possibility of a ‘both of us,’ I’m not trying to jump the gun yet again.”</p>
<p>“I very much want a ‘both of us,’” Ethan confirmed, tentatively reaching for Benji’s waist, “If I haven’t screwed up my chances forever.”</p>
<p>“Nah, I mean, who am I kidding? If I let you go, I’d spend the rest of my life regretting it. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that five minutes ago, I’m just not used to taking risks.”</p>
<p>“Please don’t apologize, not when I messed things up so badly. I’ve been a cliff-jumping type my whole life, and seriously, risk-taking is not all it’s cracked up to be.”</p>
<p>“Maybe we can meet in the middle, then,” Benji tried for a tentative smile, “Just a little risk from the both of us.”</p>
<p>“I like that.”</p>
<p>Benji liked that too. He also really liked when Ethan leaned in, cautious and slow, until Benji could meet him in the middle for a kiss.</p>
<p>Benji may not have been an actor, but he felt like the star of his very own <em>You’ve Got Mail</em> or <em>Four Weddings and a Funeral </em>(except a version where all the gays live).</p>
<p>“Hey, hey, you’re Ethan Hunt!” a middle-aged voice piped up from somewhere off to their left. A wave of gasps flowed through passerby, and the click of at least four digital shutters quickly followed.</p>
<p>Benji pulled away, but only for long enough to see that Ethan was flipping the bird to the insta-crowd. He pulled Benji back into their embrace, and Benji went oh-so-willingly and with a laugh.</p>
<p>The pictures and live videos and shocked reactions were all over the internet in microseconds. Ethan and Benji could not have cared less.</p>
<p>Somewhere in a dingy but pleasant East London flat, eating Fruit Loops right out of the box, a woman with wild red hair showed a picture on her phone of some strange man kissing that famous film star, Ethan Hunt. “See, Georges?” she tapped the screen and held it in her roommate’s faces in turn, “That’s my brother! I told you it would all work out in the end.”</p>
<p>The Georges simply nodded, unsurprised, having long since learned to trust Maggie’s instincts. Maggie grinned to herself, adjusting her bulldog-patterned scarf, recently vacuumed free of under-the-couch lint. “I wonder, how do we like the sound of Benji Hunt?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Two Years Later</em>
</p>
<p>“Are you nervous?” Ethan straightened Benji’s tie—a bow tie, of course, embroidered with pale blue flowers to match those trailing along the lapels and cuffs of his jacket.</p>
<p>“Yes, obviously,” Benji confirmed, “I’m sweating bullets.”</p>
<p>“Sexy bullets,” Ethan assured him. The assurance did nothing to help, but the humor shook Benji loose from the panic-track his train was rolling down.</p>
<p>“Do these red carpet things get less terrifying, the more you do them?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely,” Ethan promised.</p>
<p>“Right. I’ll pretend you’re not a fantastic actor who could totally lie about that to calm me down.”</p>
<p>“That’s a good plan.”</p>
<p>The limo rolled to a stop. The dull howl of people outside the vehicle was like a physical force pressing Benji down in the seat.</p>
<p>“You really don’t have to do this,” Ethan reminded him.</p>
<p>“No, I’m doing this,” Benji said, despite not moving. “I married you, all of you, including the bright, flashy, gaudy bits.”</p>
<p>Ethan smiled, crooked and happy in the way he only did when there weren’t cameras around to see. “I’m really glad you married me, have I mentioned that lately?”</p>
<p>“Only a few times in the last hour. Better drop the fact again.”</p>
<p>“I’m so utterly thrilled, moved, and humbled that you married me, Benji Dunn.”</p>
<p>Benji sighed and rolled his shoulders like he was going in for a boxing match, not an early screening of <em>ParadoXX 7: Lucky Numbers</em>.</p>
<p>“Right. Okay. Let’s do this.”</p>
<p>Ethan laughed and they stepped out, hand in hand, onto the red carpet.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I cannot believe I didn’t include a parody of the infamous “just a girl, standing in front of boy, asking him to love her” line, but y’all are welcome to leave your suggestions in the comments 😉 Lots of possibilities for fun gender- and pronoun-based humor in our gay version, here! </p>
<p>Also, if this were a longer piece, I definitely would’ve wanted to include Luther, who I imagine is Ethan’s trustworthy agent and best friend. Plus I'd love to fill Rhys Ifans role as the bizarre roommate with a MI character...but who?</p>
<p>If you got a kick out of any of this, I’d love to hear your thoughts in a comment, and you can always drop me a line on <a href="http://oriley42.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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